The Gift
by IckleRonniekins
Summary: How on earth do you tell your boyfriend that his father’s housewarming present is the embodiment of purest evil? A fairly silly H/D fic.


Title: The Gift  
  
Author name: IckleRonniekins  
  
Author email: ickleronniekinz@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: How on earth do you tell your boyfriend that his father's housewarming present is the embodiment of purest evil? A fairly silly H/D fic.  
  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling and a number of large corporations. I am not making any money out of this. This fic features a m/m relationship, so if that's not your thing, feel free to make use of the back button.  
  
This fic was written for the Armchair Slash June fic challenge, which asked for an item of furniture to be integral to the plot. My item was a dresser.  
  
Many thanks to BookSmartBrilliance for the quick beta job.  
  
***  
  
Lucius Malfoy was an evil man. He enjoyed prodding small animals with pointy sticks. He always made sure the House Elves put laxatives in his guests' soup at dinner parties. And he was definitely the kind of guy who would fart and then hold your head under the bedcovers.  
  
So it came as very little surprise when the housewarming present he gave Draco and Harry turned out to be the ugliest Thing either of them had ever seen.  
  
"What the hell is that?" Harry demanded, as soon as he had removed the last of the packaging.  
  
"It's a dresser," said Draco, who had let Harry do all the work. He waved a letter under Harry's nose. "Family heirloom."  
  
Harry had seen dressers before. But they had never looked like this.  
  
The so-called family heirloom was very black, very shiny, and very big. It Loomed like no item of furniture ever had, and in no way did it go with anything else they owned. To make matters worse, it had been carved to look like some kind of gothic cathedral, complete with leering gargoyles and stained-glass windows depicting a variety of painful yet effective demises.  
  
Harry gurgled incoherently.  
  
Draco put an arm round his shoulder. "You hate it, don't you?" he asked, sounding concerned.  
  
"Um," said Harry, still staring openmouthed at the monstrosity, and feeling somehow that it was glaring back.  
  
"Look, I know my father's a bit eccentric, but he does mean well."  
  
Harry briefly considered pointing out that Lucius had tried to kill him at least fifteen times since he and Draco had started going out, but decided to stick with the tried and tested response of, "Um."  
  
"Well I think it's interesting," said Draco, sounding quite pleased. "Lots of character."  
  
"You don't think there's something a bit . sinister about it?" asked Harry tentatively.  
  
"Of course not," Draco said cheerfully. "Now where are we going to put it?"  
  
Harry knew exactly where he wanted it to go. But he didn't think Draco would approve of him doing that to his father.  
  
***  
  
Naturally, the dresser ended up on Harry's side of their bedroom.  
  
It took Harry a long time to get to sleep. The unfamiliar shadowy bulk of the dresser unnerved him, and it was some time after two when he finally felt himself drifting off.  
  
He dreamed .  
  
He was walking through Diagon Alley. It must have been late, because the lamps had all gone out, so it was quite dark. There was a full moon, but clouds kept passing across it so that he couldn't see where he was going. Then the rain began, a drizzle at first, quickly becoming a full-blown shower. He ran for cover, without any idea of where he was going, throwing his arm over his head in a futile attempt to protect himself from the elements. It was raining so much he didn't know where he was going . he was lost . his hairgel was starting to run into his eyes and it hurt .  
  
WHAP!  
  
Without warning, he ran straight into something solid, and was knocked to the ground. Fearfully, he looked up, and saw, silhouetted by sudden, melodramatic lightning . the dresser.  
  
Harry awoke with a start. The sheets were soaked with sweat, and he felt cold and shivery. What a horrible dream, he thought, and rolled over, to find the dresser pressed right against his side of the bed.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"  
  
Draco immediately woke up and switched the light on. "What's the matter?" he asked, hugging Harry when he saw how agitated he was.  
  
"The dresser," Harry gibbered. "It crept up on me in the night."  
  
Draco peered over his shoulder. "Sweetheart, it's right where it was," he said.  
  
Harry looked, and sure enough, it was back in place against the wall. "But it was right beside the bed ." he protested.  
  
"Go back to sleep," Draco said, switching off the light. In seconds, he was snoring softly.  
  
Harry spent the rest of the night sitting up against the headboard, eyes narrowed, wand pointing at the dresser.  
  
***  
  
"Look mate, I really think you should sort this out," Ron said. "Talk to him about it."  
  
"Everything's fine," droned Harry. "Coffee. Need coffee."  
  
"Harry, you haven't slept in a fortnight."  
  
"I'm protecting us from the evil dresser," Harry told him matter of factly. "Where's the coffee?"  
  
"Why don't you just get rid of it?"  
  
"Can't. Draco would be offended. Did I mention I wanted coffee?"  
  
"Look. At the risk of sounding like Hermione, why don't you talk about it with him?"  
  
Harry pondered the idea for a moment. It hadn't occurred to him. "Good idea," he said. "Now where's the-"  
  
"I'll get your coffee," Ron interrupted.  
  
When he returned, Harry was asleep, his face pillowed on a pile of reports. Ron would've woken him up to point out that the top sheet was covered in wet ink, but he just looked so peaceful lying there.  
  
***  
  
"Harry, why do you have backwards writing on your face?" Draco asked when Harry arrived home.  
  
"Never mind that," Harry snapped. "Draco, there's something you should know. The dresser is evil. I think we should get rid of it, and Ron agrees."  
  
"This is just because you don't like my dad, isn't it?" Draco said, a definite pout coming on.  
  
"No, it's not because I don't like your dad. It's because the dresser is evil."  
  
"I just want the two of you to get along," Draco said. "You're the only family I have now that mother is dead."  
  
Harry sighed, and dropped the subject before Draco could embark on one of his epic wibbles.  
  
That night, he dozed off for a few seconds and when he woke up, the dresser was suspended a foot above the bed.  
  
He decided to go and sleep on the sofa.  
  
***  
  
"Harry, this is getting ridiculous," said Ron, handing him his third ultra- strong coffee of the morning.  
  
"Mrrghl," Harry agreed, downing the coffee like it was a shot of vodka. "Ahh, sweet caffeine numbs the pain."  
  
"Look, if you're so convinced the dresser is evil, why not ask Malfoy's dad?"  
  
"Don't be stupid, I can't do that. Like he'd actually tell me."  
  
"Well it's worth a try, isn't it?" Ron picked up a sheet of parchment and a quill. "Dear Mr Malfoy, did you send Draco and me an evil dresser? Regards, Harry."  
  
"Don't be an arse, Ron," said Harry.  
  
"I'm going to send it," said Ron.  
  
"Don't you dare!"  
  
"I'm sick of getting you sodding coffee all the time," Ron said, and legged it to the Ministry's Owlery.  
  
Harry gave chase, but his legs were much shorter, so Ron had already managed to Owl the letter by the time he caught up with him.  
  
***  
  
Harry was fully prepared for Draco to kick his ass when he got home. The letter was bound to have reached its destination by now, so Draco surely knew all about it already. His stuff would probably all be in binbags by the front door.  
  
But when he arrived home, it was to find the place cordoned off, and surrounded by Hit Wizards. Draco was standing outside, looking strained.  
  
"Where were you?" he demanded as soon as he saw Harry. "I've been so worried . I've been trying to get in touch with you all afternoon!" He wrapped his arms around Harry's middle, and buried his face in his shoulder.  
  
"What's up?" Harry asked, as soon as Draco had loosened his grip a little and he could actually breathe again.  
  
"Well, it turns out that you were right all along. The dresser is evil. Voldemort gave it to my parents as a wedding present. But it isn't the one that father meant to give us ... the couriers messed up the delivery."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. "Okay."  
  
"I'm so sorry I didn't believe you," Draco mumbled, looking at his feet. "Will you ever forgive me?"  
  
"I think you've got some making up to do," said Harry, with a smirk. "But we'll talk about that later."  
  
***  
  
Later that evening, they were finally allowed back in the flat. The dresser had been subdued and removed from the premises.  
  
"I'm afraid some of your things got a bit damaged during the capture," admitted the chief Hit Wizard as he let them back in. Then he left, suspiciously quickly.  
  
'A bit damaged' was the understatement of the decade. Every room had been destroyed. Not a single item of furniture had survived.  
  
"Shit," said Harry, obscurely impressed by the extent of the destruction.  
  
"Our TV," Draco said mournfully. "It's broken. And ER is on in half an hour."  
  
As they stood surveying the wreckage, the doorbell rang.  
  
Harry answered it.  
  
A clipboard was thrust in his face. "Sign here please."  
  
Harry scribbled his name down, and two wizards levitated a large crate into the flat.  
  
"Nice place you've got here," said one, as they left.  
  
"Thanks," Harry muttered bitterly. "We think so too." He set about removing the packaging, while Draco went to attempt to repair the television.  
  
When he yanked the last nail out, the crate collapsed to reveal a little pine dresser. It was really very tasteful, and not at all evil.  
  
One day, Harry told himself, he would look back on this situation and laugh. But right now, he decided to settle for kicking the dresser. Hard. 


End file.
